


Secret Passions

by mandykaysfic



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Tom's secret passions finds out about the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Passions

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed one line from the episode 'Coda'.
> 
> Written after the first time I saw Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo perform.

The alarm sounded and the cheerful voice of the computer informed Tom it was 0500 hours. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes and rolled out of bed. He began his morning routine with half an hour of general stretching. Pausing for a few minutes to move the furniture out of the way and then put together the equipment he kept in pieces in his wardrobe, he dressed in the clothing and shoes he needed for the hour’s worth of more extensive exercises and practice he had performed almost every morning since Voyager was stranded in the Delta Quadrant. He ordered the computer to play one of his favorite pieces of music and began his workout, softly counting aloud each set of fifty repetitions.

When he finished his session, he examined his posture in the mirror, checking out the line of his spine and legs. He spoke to his reflection. “Getting stranded in the Delta has certainly achieved something. You are in the best shape you’ve been in for ages, and you’ve put in more regular practice than you have for years.” He struck a few poses, admiring what he could see and then whistling cheerfully, he wheeled the mirror away to the back of his wardrobe and then dismantled the framework until it once more resembled some innocuous lengths of wood and metal. He had hustled for and saved his replicator rations for months to get the equipment so he could practice in his room and not depend on using the holodeck all of the time. He did after all have other interests to pursue on the holodeck. He still made regular time to use the programs he had written for partner and group work for which he programmed various holocharacters to his specific needs and standards; he wasn’t comfortable with letting anyone on board know his secret passion - either of them. Tom’s other secret passion was tall, dark and handsome, and he kept his thoughts about his first officer strictly to himself.

Tom restored his living room furniture to its places, then showered and changed into his uniform, making sure he was ready to leave when Harry came by so that they could go to breakfast together. Once they were in the Mess Hall, they joined the queue of diners and made their choices from a very ordinary selection. 

“Neelix must be low on stores again,” remarked Tom as he and Harry maneuvered their way across the room to an empty table. Harry dropped into the closest chair while Tom neatly folded himself into the one opposite. 

The captain, her first officer and chief of security were seated two tables away discussing some ship’s business over an early breakfast. Chakotay had looked up in time to follow the junior officers’ progress across the room. His sudden movement attracted Kathryn Janeway’s attention and she too looked up in time to notice the young men seat themselves. They continued watching as Tom threw back his head and laughed at a riposte made by Harry.

“He could be a poster boy for one of those digests,” said Kathryn and she named a couple of popular fashion advertorials. “He always looks so…” and she waved a hand in the air.”

“Elegant,” put in Chakotay. 

“He is one of the most coordinated attendees of the mok’bara class,” said Tuvok. “His movements are always graceful.” The class in the Klingon discipline was primarily for Tuvok’s security team, but was open to anyone who wished to attend.

“His father always insisted on Tom and his sisters having good posture, especially as they were on display a lot as youngsters. The admiral refused to let them lounge around. I guess it must be an ingrained habit now,” said Kathryn off handedly, and returned the discussion to the matter at hand.

Neelix made his way around the tables, stopping at each one to chat for a few moments. B’Elanna and Ayala joined Tom and Harry just as Neelix bustled up to them.

“Mr. Kim, how are we this morning? All ready for tonight?”

Harry colored faintly and nodded. Talent Night was the latest of Neelix’s ideas for entertaining the crew and he had coerced a dozen people from all sections of Voyager into performing. Some of the acts were a given; the Doctor would perform one of his favorite arias, Harry would play his clarinet, and Susan Nicoletti would contribute an oboe solo. Captain Janeway set a good example and volunteered to perform. Rumor had it she was going to dance, probably a display of Irish dancing. Tuvok surprised everyone by giving into Neelix’s less than subtle persuasions and announcing he too would take part. The remainder of the senior staff was conspicuous by their absence from the program. Tom in particular had refused to give into Harry’s blandishments about his piano playing.

“I had lessons, Harry. That doesn’t mean I can play well enough for public consumption.” He did however write a holoprogram for the performances and produced a nightclub similar to Vic Fontaine’s on DS9. 

Other people kept their items secret and everyone was curious to see what talent Randolph Biddle had been keeping to himself. Joe Carey had also given his name to Neelix, but no description of his act.

The interest Talent Night generated achieved the desired effect and the atmosphere on the ship lightened considerably. Neelix continued to wend his way around the tables, checking on those of the performers who were present and making sure they were all ready to perform. Soon the crew dispersed and headed to their duties.

On the bridge, all was quiet. Chakotay’s mind wandered as he watched Tom fly the starship ever homeward. The brief conversation at breakfast replayed itself as he focused on Tom’s hands. Even when there was only routine flying required, those hands moved gracefully. Chakotay often found them more interesting to watch than the unending fields of stars.

~

Not even an ounce of nervousness was part of the Doctor’s holomatrix and the aria he chose to perform was sung flawlessly and well received. Neelix refused to allow any encores so the Doctor took his place in the audience to watch Doug Bronowski play his accordion. Everyone politely ignored the recurring sour notes and applauded encouragingly when the perspiring Doug took his bows.

“I told you he played it badly,” murmured Harry to Tom. They had secured seats next to each other at one of the front tables and were sitting with B’Elanna, Tuvok, Chakotay and the captain.

‘The Boys from Bajor’, a comedy duo consisting of Tabor and Gerron, soon had the audience in fits of laughter. They had put together a nice mix of topical jokes and sight gags that tickled everyone’s funny bones.

Susan Nicoletti followed them with her oboe solo. She played a haunting melody from one of the popular musicals. She had conferred with Harry as soon as she had agreed to participate, and they settled on pieces that were quite dissimilar.

Neelix announced the next performer and everyone sat up straighter at the mention of Randolph Biddle’s name. He had been hiding in one of the small dressing rooms situated off to the side of the stage. To a multitude of flashing lights and the programmed sounds of screaming and cheering, he strode onto the stage and grasped the microphone stand. He wore a wig of thick, black, sweptback hair and was dressed in a tight white jumpsuit, liberally strewn with sequins. A jeweled belt cinched his waist and a shiny cape swirled from his shoulders. Singing in a surprisingly deep voice, he launched into ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. As he parodied the classic pelvic grinds of the historical singer Elvis Presley, the Delaney sisters got into the mood and rushed to the front of the stage, screaming hysterically. The Elvis Reenactment Society was still big business centuries after the singer’s death, and Randolph had been the president of his local chapter. 

Without waiting for Neelix to refuse an encore, he segued into a soulful verse and chorus of ‘Teddy Bear’ and finished with a rendition of ‘Viva Las Vegas’ that had everyone clapping and stomping. With a wave and a “Thank you very much!” he left the stage to thunderous applause. 

Neelix made his way to the centre of the stage and consulted a PADD. “Now I am supposed to say, ‘Elvis has left the building’, so without further ado, Elvis has left the building!”

Kathryn took the opportunity to slip quietly away to change. She was to be the last act before interval. As she tied on her slippers, Tuvok’s sonorous voice reciting Vulcan poetry echoed inside her dressing room. Five minutes, eight minutes, twelve minutes later, it was still echoing. Twenty-two minutes later, the audience stirred itself and the subdued applause told Kathryn she was on now. The few butterflies that had made their presence felt in her stomach suddenly multiplied into a swarm. She knew she would rather be on the bridge, facing every single alien ship that had ever fired upon Voyager than go out and perform in front of the crew. She’d only managed to practice a few times in the previous week. She took several calming breaths and moved to her place in the wings. Neelix finished his prolonged introduction, and the first liquid notes of ‘The Dying Swan’ rang out.

Kathryn crossed the stage in a flurry of bourreés to the sound of clapping, and everyone settled down to watch their captain perform the classical ballet dance first written for Anna Pavlova. If the mid-air flourishes of her gargouillades were not nearly as scissor sharp as they should have been, and if her leg wobbled in the arabesque, her audience, overall remained uncritical, except for one person.

Chakotay, sitting between Kathryn’s currently vacant chair and Tom Paris, was aware that Tom stiffened at her entrance. He had leaned forward and muttered something under his breath before leaning back into his seat. Chakotay risked a quick look at Tom and was disconcerted to see a pained expression on the younger man’s face. He turned back to the stage before Tom realized he had been observed. A minute or so later, Chakotay turned slightly and caught sight of Tom’s fingers drumming on the tabletop. This time Chakotay made sure Tom noticed him. He glanced down towards Tom’s fingers, and back up to his face, raising a questioning eyebrow. Tom stopped drumming and placed both hands in his lap below the table, then pointedly turned back to the stage. 

As the dying swan reached the final stages of her demise, Chakotay took another look at Tom. He was mouthing something and shaking his head ever so slightly. Chakotay wondered what it meant, but pushed the thoughts to the back of his head and joined in the enthusiastic applause. Neelix presented Kathryn with a bouquet of flowers, and she curtseyed again, before going to change and returning to the table for the remainder of the interval.

Sliding into her seat, Kathryn accepted a tall glass of something cold from Chakotay. She downed half of it in just a few swallows. 

“Congratulations on a fine performance, Kathryn,” said Chakotay. 

She nodded and smiled. Several other crewmembers stopped by to add their congratulations to those already given. 

“Ballet, Captain?” said Harry questioningly. “You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel. When did you learn to dance like that?”

“I was six years old when I learned that dance and it was the highlight of the ‘Beginning Ballet’ class” 

A choking noise interrupted the captain’s comments and everyone turned to see Tom coughing violently.

“Are you okay, Tom?” asked Chakotay. He thought about Tom’s strange behavior during Kathryn’s performance. Tom had watched the other performances with seeming enjoyment.

“Drink…went down…the wrong way,” Tom gasped out and coughed again as Harry thumped his back. He gradually recovered, and nobody except Chakotay noticed he was the only person who did not have anything to say about the dying swan.

Neelix called for everyone’s attention and introduced the first act of the second half of the program. Joe Carey was almost unrecognizable in full clown’s make-up and costume, and he soon had the audience laughing.

The next act was responsible for more raised eyebrows than those produced by a shipload of Vulcans who accidentally found themselves at the annual convention of the Society for Creative Anarchism. Chell and Gowlat gave a rendition of the balcony scene from Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Chell later explained that he and Gowlat were distantly related to Mot, the barber on the Enterprise who had long evinced a fondness for Shakespeare thanks to the influence of Captain Picard. During Mot’s vacations, he often organized readings and performances of the bard’s plays and called upon his various family members to help him out with the cast. 

Chakotay noticed Tom enthusiastically applauded this and the following acts, which comprised Harry playing his clarinet, a duet by the Delaney sisters, and an energetic performance of the jive by a couple of ensigns from Engineering. He forgot about Tom’s behavior once more as Pablo Baytart, dressed in skin-tight leather pants and a form-fitting black jerkin laced across his chest, strode onto the stage and proceeded to give a stunning display of juggling. He began with balls – three, four and then five, progressed to a selection of phaser rifles and hand phasers, moved on to various knives and axes and wound up with the grand finale where he juggled flaming torches. 

“No wonder he is such a great pilot,” said Tom to Harry. “”His eye-hand coordination is amazing.”

The evening concluded with the harmonies of Doyle, Boylan and Ashmore singing a cappella and all of those present voted it a great success. 

Many people stayed to talk and quite a crowd milled around, wanting to congratulate the captain again. In the general melee, Tom left unnoticed and went straight back to his quarters.

~

Tom stalked across his living area to the replicator and ordered a drink. The gushing praise by various people over the captain’s performance had gotten to him and he could not bear to hear any more. Watching her dance had upset him greatly, and he knew he would find it difficult to explain to anyone exactly why he felt the way he did, and, as there was no way he could offer her anything other than a fulsome comment, it was better that he left when he did. He also wasn’t sure whether he would be able to restrain himself from categorically stating one did not learn the ‘Dying Swan’ at six years of age. It was _not_ a beginner’s piece by any stretch of the imagination. 

He stared at the amber whirlpool as he swirled his glass. He was too agitated to sleep for now. Watching a vid would fill in some time, and the right choice would calm him down. Tom finished his drink and replicated another and then a fit of perverseness came over him as he made his vid selection. He toed off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa to watch ‘Swan Lake’, performed by one of the top American ballet companies. 

Within minutes, he was lost in his own private world. He barely noticed some time later when he began to rotate his ankles, subconsciously stretching and warming them up. He often used selections from ‘Swan Lake’ to exercise to in the mornings. Deciding that maybe the exercise would help to centre him, Tom got up, pushed the sofa and coffee table aside, and stripped off his jeans. The denim was not very forgiving when it came to repetitive deep knee bends. 

Tom felt happier as his workout progressed. He knew one of his favorite routines was coming up and grinned to himself. 

“Go for it, Tommy. You know you want to,” he said to himself.

He would have just enough time to change and be ready to enter with the music. Leaving the vid running, he hurried into the bedroom and pulled his gym bag out from the closet. He changed rapidly and finished lacing his shoes with six bars of music to spare. He mentally checked the position of his head and arms, and then rose up en pointe and bourreéd into the room in the company of three imaginary cygnets. Tom Paris was a male ballerina.

~

Finding piano lessons did not fulfill an undefined need within him, the young Tom had discovered ballet. He knew his father would not permit him to learn, so at ten he had organized his own classes. He would turn up to the School for the Arts for the piano lessons as he was expected, and indeed had a half hour lesson, so that he would be able to play something when asked, but actually, he stayed for ballet lessons. Growing too tall to be a company dancer never bothered him, as he knew Starfleet would be his career; he danced for his own enjoyment. 

The progression to points came about in his early teens after he stumbled upon a small group of dancers practicing the dance of the four little cygnets from Swan Lake. This was not an unusual occurrence in a ballet school, except there were only three of them and they were all male. The strength and grace, precision and elegance rang a chord with him and he joined their class. Ballet, along with opera, had remained very traditional in its teaching and performances and male ballerinas were still very much in the minority.

Over time, the group discovered Tom’s sense of humor expressed itself as the ability to mimic the better-known company dancers and teachers, and he portrayed all of their foibles and mannerisms with uncanny accuracy and a wicked glint of mischief in his blue eyes. The only thing he flatly refused to do was dance in public. After all, his family thought he was having piano lessons. If they were ever surprised at the discrepancy between Tom’s ability and the number of piano lessons, they learned not to say anything as each time the possibility of stopping the lessons was raised, Tom begged hard to continue. The staff and dancers kept his secret, and Tom danced every week until he left for Starfleet Academy. 

~

Tom no longer noticed the incongruity of being a swan dressed only in tights and ballet shoes. He had a variety of tutus, longer dresses and other costumes programmed into his ballet files for use on the holodeck. The only real clothing he replicated was a couple of sets of practice clothes and several pairs of variously styled dance shoes that could be easily hidden in a gym bag and could be worn in his quarters as well as on the holodeck. Replicating the blocked point shoes was hell on his rations account. He was able to extend their life a bit by resorting to the old-fashioned habit of darning the toes, but they still needed replacing fairly often.

Tom sank into an attitude at the end of the piece, in time with the dancers on the vid screen. His chest heaved, but he smiled happily, his earlier frustration gone. He remained on the floor, watching the well-known story continue to unfold. As another of Odette’s solos began, he rose to his feet once more and joined in. This time the strength, grace and sheer technical brilliance was overshadowed as he incorporated Megan Delaney’s mannerisms into the dance. His hand continually checked his hair as he glanced at any available reflective surface, he primped into imaginary mirrors and his hips swayed wickedly as he moved across the floor.

Before he finished, the door chime sounded. 

He killed the sound and called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Chakotay. May I come in, Tom?”

“Just a minute,” he called back, and raced into his room. He unlaced his shoes and pulled them off. The tights quickly followed and he wrapped himself in a robe.

Reentering his living room, he told Chakotay to enter.

Chakotay eyed the living area with its pushed back furniture and central empty space, but kept his curiosity in check. Taking in Tom’s robe and disheveled hair, he asked, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No. I was just stretching before going to bed. What did you want?” Tom concentrated on slowing his breathing.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You left Talent Night in a hurry, and earlier you seemed a little…” Chakotay’s voice trailed off. His attention was caught by the flickering images on the vid screen. “That’s the ‘Dying Swan’.”

Tom flushed and went to remove the vid.

“No, wait,” said Chakotay, and he turned to better see the tiny figure moving gracefully across the stage. “Sound?” he asked.

Tom restored the sound, and stood back. He alternated between watching the screen and watching Chakotay. He waited, wondering what the other man would say.

After Anita Maynefield sank to the floor, Chakotay sighed deeply, then turned and gestured to the sofa pushed against the far wall. “Mind if I sit down?”

Tom shook his head, and sat carefully at the other end of the seat, suddenly mindful of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a toweling robe.

“Are you a balletomane, Tom?” asked Chakotay, after adding Tom owning and watching a Swan Lake vid to his discomfort during Kathryn’s performance and coming up with that conclusion.

“You could say that,” answered Tom.

“I suppose the admiral took you to performances at the State Theatre.” Chakotay missed Tom’s snort as he continued, “I went to the State quite a bit during my time at the academy. My roommate in my second year had a girlfriend who was one of the corps de ballet. He dragged me along more than a few times to watch her dance.”

“What was her name?” asked Tom.

“Who?”

“The girlfriend.”

“Oh. Um, Sandra; no, she preferred Sondra. She had dark hair, I remember. Nice legs, though I guess that’s a given for a dancer,” Chakotay added inconsequentially.

“Not Sondra Cunningham?”

“Yes, I think that was her name. Why?”

“She became the prima ballerina with the State Company when I…I…I’ve seen her dance.” Tom shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t believe he was in his quarters discussing one of his secret passions with the other. It was hard to remain focused on the conversation.

“I watched her dance the Dying Swan once. She just seemed to float. You know Tom, Talent Night is an amateur night.”

“I know. It’s just…” Tom fiddled with the tie on his robe. “One does not learn the Dying Swan in Beginning Ballet class,” he stated didactically. “It’s done en pointe and you don’t even get on to points for a few years, usually not before twelve or so.”

“Granted, but you were upset about something before she made that comment.”

Tom wasn’t sure what to say. He tucked one leg up underneath himself and began unobtrusively to massage the ball of his foot. 

“Did you know the doctor has banned me from singing in Sickbay?” he asked suddenly.

Chakotay was not sure where Tom was going with this, but shook his head anyway. “I didn’t know you sang.”

“Oh, I can sing,” he said dryly, and broke into the chorus of ‘Heartbreak Hotel. After four flat and cracking bars, the expression on Chakotay’s face said plenty and Tom stopped singing. He continued explaining, “I just don’t sing well and it upsets the Doc. He may be a hologram but singing of that caliber resonates really badly with his matrix. And B’Elanna. You know how she gets when someone less than competent does something to her engines. She feels it personally.” He wound down and shrugged. “I could give you some more examples. It’s just one of those things.”

“So what you’re telling me is you’re some sort of ballet expert and the captain’s dancing upset you.” Chakotay couldn’t help a note of skepticism creeping into his tone. He eyed Tom’s leg, the stretched out one. The calf and the two thirds of exposed thigh were certainly firm and well-muscled, as well as being liberally covered with light brown hairs. It was a nice leg, he thought. He’d always been a leg man.

“Yes,” replied Tom simply.

“You’re not just an aficionado? You actually dance?” Chakotay remembered one of times he’d seen Tom dance at the resort. The Delaney’s had begun a conga line, which had later turned into a chorus line of high kicking legs. Even fooling around Tom’s kicks had been more rhythmic than most of the girls, and he was always a sought after partner at dances.

“You got it.”

“So why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

Tom just raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe not!” agreed Chakotay with a laugh. “I simply cannot imagine the admiral letting you have ballet lessons. It is ballet, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I learnt ballet. Classical, jazz, tap, character, the whole bit and he didn’t _let_ me. He thought I was having piano lessons. So did my mom. Nobody knows. I took the classes under another name, and I never performed in public. Eventually my teachers and classmates found out, and they didn’t tell anyone because they knew I would have had to stop.” 

Tom looked down and realized his robe was gaping. He colored faintly and wiggled his leg out from under, settling himself with his knees firmly together and the robe tucked tightly around his body once more. He sighed deeply and looked up at Chakotay.

Guessing what was on Tom’s mind, Chakotay said gently, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks,” said Tom, relieved he didn’t have to ask.

“So when do you practice here on Voyager?” asked Chakotay with interest.

“Every day here in my quarters, unless I’m on a mission, and a couple of times a month on the holodeck.”

“That’s a lot of practice.”

“Yeah, well, I enjoy it.” It was the truth. Tom enjoyed the control it gave him over his body.

“Don’t you ever want to dance in front of an audience?” said Chakotay, going off on another tangent.

“No, not really. Well, maybe. I’ve got a holographic audience programmed, so I guess that means yes. But it’s not that important.”

“Tom,” said Chakotay, thinking of Tom’s legs, and his hands, and the back of his neck that he stared at most days, “Tom, would you dance for me?”

“What?!” squawked Tom.

“Dance for me. Please.”

“You’re serious.”

“Very. I’d like to see you dance, very much.” The warm pleading in Chakotay’s voice sent shivers down Tom’s spine.

“Well,” Tom stared into Chakotay’s eyes. “I have two hours booked on the holodeck tomorrow evening at 2200. Are you free then?” At Chakotay’s nod he continued, “Come by a few minutes past then. Your ticket will be waiting in the box office.”

“Thank-you. I’m glad you’re okay. See you on the bridge.” 

~

Promptly at 2200 Chakotay entered the holodeck. The foyer of the theatre was decorated in rich reds and gold. Holographic patrons milled around, drinking wine and talking amongst themselves. As he collected his ticket, a bell sounded and people began making their way to their seats.

“Up the stairs to your left,” directed the young man who gave Chakotay his ticket and a glossy program. At the top of the stairs, a smiling usher escorted him to a private box. “Compliments of Mr. Paris,” said the usher, indicating bottles chilled wine and water, glasses, and a selection of sweet and savory finger foods.

As the orchestra warmed up in the pit, Chakotay examined the program with interest. He wasn’t to know that Tom had agitated for quite some time over the mix of dances before settling on excerpts from three more recent works where he would dance male roles for the first half of the evening, while three classic selections made up the second half. 

The heavy velvet drapes that hid the stage from the audience rippled and the old-fashioned gas lamps dimmed. The audience applauded as the music rang out and the curtain rose. 

‘Cosmos’ was a unique blend of dance styles from various planets as it told the story of space farer Richard Carmichael’s adventures as he looked for love across the galaxy, only to find it close at hand in the form of his traveling companion. Act II, scene ii opened with the corps de ballet dressed in brilliant yellows, orange and crimson as befitted denizens of Coronos, while Tom, as Richard, was clad in formfitting grey and silver with blue trimmings. The design vaguely resembled an environmental suit, except that the shiny material clung to him like a second skin. 

Chakotay forgot about following the story line as he focused on the lines of Tom’s body as he moved around the stage. Great strength and precision was required for many of the acrobatic moves incorporated into the dance. All sorts of clichés about poetry in motion passed through his mind. Tom had thoughtfully provided a pair of opera glasses and Chakotay used them to their fullest advantage.

The second item was a pas de deux. Chakotay grinned when he realized Tom had programmed Sondra Cunningham as his partner. This time, Tom was dressed in black – a black tank top and black pants. His black shoes had a firmer sole and a small heel. Chakotay didn’t realize he licked his lips. Sondra wore a deep rose pink dress with shoestring straps that complimented her dark coloring perfectly. The two of them exuded sensuality as they moved together. 

As the curtain came down at the conclusion of the third piece, Chakotay’s hands were sore as he vigorously clapped the showy number that had involved much leaping and sliding about the stage. The lamps brightened again, and he poured himself another drink. Interval was scheduled to last for twenty minutes. He wondered if he could speak briefly to Tom. He was considering the best way to find him when the usher appeared at his shoulder. 

“Mr Paris wondered if you would like to come to his dressing room for a few minutes. Please come with me.”

Chakotay followed the young man, marveling at Tom’s thoroughness with this program. He couldn’t help laughing as he spotted the gold star on Tom’s dressing room door. 

Tom sat at a dressing table, wearing a thin cotton robe. Cosmetics littered the surface in front of him. He was engaged in putting a different shade of foundation on his face and finished smoothing on the color before turning to speak. “Mind if I keep going?” he asked. “I haven’t had a lot of practice at this.”

“No,” said Chakotay. He watched with interest as Tom began darkening and redefining his eyebrows so they arched just a little above his normal brow line.

“So, what did you think?” asked Tom, a little diffidently.

“That was incredible. You are amazing.” Chakotay paused, “I can’t begin to describe how I felt watching you dance.”

“Good, eh?”

“Oh, yes, very good. Will I come back here when it’s over?”

“Wait for me in the foyer, okay?” 

Chakotay nodded. Tom picked up a lipstick and fiddled with it for a moment. 

“Do you mind going back to your seat now? I can’t do this bit with you watching.” He hadn’t actually explained to Chakotay that he danced as a ballerina and the thought of applying lipstick, rouge and eye-shadow, not to mention the fake eyelashes under Chakotay’s gaze was a bit much for Tom in his present state of growing nerves.

Chakotay didn’t argue, he just squeezed Tom’s shoulder and left. Back in the box, he examined the program again. Excerpts from ‘Swan Lake’, a solo to be announced, and a special arrangement of the fairies’ solos from ‘Sleeping Beauty’ comprised the remainder of the program.

Back in the dressing room, Tom finished his makeup, adjusted his dance belt and pulled on a pair of tights. He carefully laced his blocked shoes and then stood up. He activated the next costume subroutine, and stared into the mirror. A wig of center-parted hair wound into a bun at the back coalesced on his head. The white feathered headpiece of Odette sat neatly in place. The stiff satin bodice of his tutu was also feather trimmed and accented with sequins and a large blue jewel.

The warning bell sounded; he had just five minutes to make his way to the wings. The holodancers were already in place. He’d modeled some of them on his friends from the ballet class. Thanks to the miracle of technology, he would be able to dance his first and favorite part as one of the four cygnets with Josh, Enrico and Myles, as well as portraying Odette, (the computer would take care of the costume change instantaneously while he was off stage). 

The curtain opened; Prince Siegfried and Benno mimed their tale of hunting swans. Chakotay was puzzled. The role of Siegfried was not being danced by Tom, in fact neither was Benno. He joined in the laughter at the exaggerated movements and comedic touches to the well-known tale as in his mind he quickly ran through the storyline again. Tom must be going to portray the evil Baron von Rothbart. A flurry of swans danced from one side of the stage to the other. Chakotay started and then reached for the opera glasses. As he focused on the broad shoulders of the members of the corps, the music changed and Odette glided down to the center of the stage. It was Tom! Chakotay examined the reddish-blond hair hairs rising incongruously above the top of the tutu. The swans displayed a veritable forest of hairy armpits, and not a few hairy chests. This dance troupe was one hundred percent male. 

The fact that there were no females dancing faded to a teaser at the edges of Chakotay’s mind as he settled into his chair to enjoy the spectacle on the stage below, especially that of Tom’s long legs, encased in white, and extending for what seemed like forever below his short skirts. The highlights from the classical ballet were all included, and hearing Tchaikovsky’s music was always a pleasure. Chakotay did a double-take when he realized Tom had taken on a second, albeit secondary, role as the fourth cygnet.

When Tom came back once more as Odette to complete Act II, Chakotay took the time to appreciate just how good a dancer he really was. He’d certainly understated the case when he’d agreed to Chakotay’s suggestion that he was ‘some kind of ballet expert’. 

Chakotay’s brow creased when a mellifluous voiceover announced the solo for the evening would be the ‘Dying Swan’. Within moments, his frown was replaced with a broad grin as Tom’s tutu molted handfuls of feathers over the stage. Rather than compete with Kathryn Janeway, Tom had chosen the choreographed parody and injected every ounce of irreverent humor he possessed into capturing the essence of the case of the terminal fowl. His medical knowledge, gleaned from enforced hours in Sickbay, came in handy as his caricature of increasingly nerveless legs, decreasing wing strength, and diminishing oxygen-carrying capacity had everyone lying back in their seats howling with laughter. If Tom had been a cat, he would have been coughing up furballs. Instead, feathers continued to drop in handfuls over the floor. Chakotay struggled to sit up and wipe the tears from his face as Tom took numerous curtain calls. A theatre footman walked ponderously on stage and presented Tom with a bouquet of red roses. He curtseyed charmingly, losing a few more feathers in the process, and slipped back behind the heavy curtains. 

It was more Tchaikovsky for the finale. While at school, Tom and his cygnet friends had choreographed their own version of the fairies’ dances at the wedding of Aurora and her prince in ‘The Sleeping Beauty’. Josh as Canaries, Enrico as Candide, Myles as Violente, and Tom as the Lilac fairy turned the celebrations into a glorious dance competition between each other. 

After the curtain came down for the final time, Chakotay walked slowly back to the foyer. The holographic patrons were no more, so he sat in the empty room waiting for Tom. He didn’t have long to wait. Soon Tom appeared, dressed in sweats and carrying a gym bag. He looked tired.

“Tom,” began Chakotay.

“Come back with me to my quarters and we’ll talk there.”

Tom closed down the program and the men left the holodeck together. Once in Tom’s quarters, he told Chakotay to get himself a drink from the replicator while he had a quick shower. Five minutes later, he was back in the living room, toweling his head. Chakotay sat on the sofa, cradling a mug of tea. Tom got himself a couple of sandwiches and a glass of milk, and sat at the other end of the sofa.

“So…” Tom flushed as he opened the conversation. He practically inhaled the first sandwich as he waited for Chakotay to continue.

“Tom, I…Obviously it was not what I expected. That Dying Swan,” Chakotay laughed, a warm humorous laugh from the depths of his being. He shook his head. “I hope Kathryn never has the urge to reprise her performance as I will not be able to watch without seeing you. That was simply brilliant!” He mimicked Tom’s head movements where the swan had resembled a demented turkey rather than the graceful bird it was. “I’d love to see you dance it again some time.”

“Really? You don’t think I’m, umm, strange?”

“No. Tom you are incredibly talented. If you hadn’t gone to the Academy, you could have made it as a dancer.”

Tom shook his head. "Too tall.” He examined the crumbs that remained on his plate. “So do you understand I really couldn’t say anything to the captain? Besides, if someone announces they are dancing Hovgard’s version, the least they could do is actually dance his steps;” Tom shook his head and tsked to himself, “even if it’s only an amateur night, you never know who will be in the audience.”

The men talked companionably for a while longer and then Chakotay stood up.

“You should get some sleep now, Tom. You have duty in the morning.”

“Yeah. After tonight, I think I’ll make it just a short session in the morning.”

“Good night, Tom. Thanks for letting me see you dance.”

“You’re welcome. Good night Chakotay”

Just before the door closed, Chakotay turned back into the room. “By the way, Tom, nice legs!” he commented with a wink and a grin, and left Tom to ponder on that remark.

END


End file.
